After
by Singing Violin
Summary: Kathryn's gone. Chakotay grieves. Now what?


Title: After  
Author: Singing Violin  
Series: Star Trek: Voyager  
Rating: K plus with a warning for major character death.  
Summary: Kathryn's gone. Chakotay grieves. Now what?  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm only trying to minimize the damage.  
Dedication: To my favorite author, who made me sad enough to write this.

Only when the others had left, did he allow himself to cry. Silent tears could not express the anguish that tore apart his soul at its very seams, and so he called out with his whole being, a feral wail that would do a Klingon Warrior justice. Unlike a Klingon, however, he did not scream to warn the Heavens of her arrival, though he knew her valor to be equal to that of any soldier from any species he had ever encountered. He sobbed because his own soul would allow no less; he needed to let loose the demon of grief inside him lest it consume him entirely, pulling him into oblivion directly behind her.

Though perhaps that fate would not be as painful as what he endured now. He didn't expect it to hurt this much. The rivulets of salt-water running down his cheeks burned like acid, and yet he did nothing to stop them. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

He needed to feel, or he, too, would die.

Convulsive spasms wrought his body, and still he cried. _Will I ever be all right?_ he wondered.

"You'll be fine," came a familiar voice, soft as a whisper though somehow piercing enough to be audible over the primal noises emerging from his strained throat.

"No," he sobbed. "I can't go on without you."

"You can, and you will," the voice answered. "I'll make it an order if I have to."

He raised his face then, and his puffy, red eyes looked upon the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

"Kathryn," he breathed, his voice hitching through the sobs that would not cease, even as he fought to quiet himself so he could listen to her.

She reached out to him, and he could swear her hand was warm upon his cheek. A tear trickled onto and over her finger, then dripped onto the floor. "I'm here," she promised.

He shook his head. "You're dead. You'll never be here again." And then, in the quietest voice that had ever escaped from his lips, "I loved you."

She didn't hesitate. "I know," she answered. "You always did. I thought you were a fool, you know, for that. I didn't deserve it."

_How could she say that?_ "You deserved it … and more," he countered. "You never let me love you."

"I couldn't return your love," she admitted regretfully. "Not the way you wanted. It was too much; I could never live up to your expectations."

"You always did," he told her. "You met and exceeded everything I wanted from you …"

"Except as a lover," she pointed out. She paused, fixing him with an enigmatic gaze. "You would have been disappointed."

He shook his head again. "I refuse to believe that."

"It's true, whether you believe it or not," she replied. "But it's of no consequence now. You'll live on … honor my legacy."

Suddenly something occurred to him. "Stay," he begged. "Make love to me, now."

She smiled sadly. "I can't. I'm not really here."

He blinked, pushing a few more tears out into the creases that lined his eyes. "Then how …?"

"You know," she admonished. "You're the spiritual one."

He pursed his lips and sniffled softly. "I loved you," he repeated.

"And you still do. And I loved you too, in my own way."

With that, she placed a hand upon his chest, covering his heart. "I'll always be here," she reminded him. "I know you'll keep me safe, as long as you live."

"And after?" he asked. "What about when I die?"

"Then we'll be together again," she confirmed. "And I will still love you."

Fresh tears came to his eyes. "Why must I wait?"

Her eyes twinkled. "I think you know that too," she replied.

"And when I see you again," he asked, "will I still be disappointed?"

She raised a hand to his forehead then, brushing his hair – grown out and grayed since his days on _Voyager_ – away from his tattoo. "No," she answered contemplatively. "I don't think so."

"I'm going to miss you," he said.

"I know," she answered. Then she leaned forward to brush her lips against his.

He closed his eyes in anticipation of finally experiencing the kiss they had never shared in life.

When he opened them again, she was gone. But somehow, knowing that the separation was not permanent, he found the strength he required to continue living.

"Thank you, Kathryn," he whispered to the empty room.


End file.
